I always said this about the Corolla...

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/08/26/AR2010082604637.html?hpid=topnews

Idiocy

After the attack on the UN guest house, I've made all my Kabul video private out of fear that folks appearing in them might be made targets. Email me if you'd like to see them...

 08/17/21 update: I've deleted all photos and videos showing anyone local, and have changed names to only initials.

A note on this blog

Hello, thanks for having a look at my blog on my trips to Kabul, Afghanistan of January/February and March/April of 2007. Because the posts appear with the most recent first, I recommend you click back to the beginning for first impressions, better narrative (I'd say the final part if my first trip and beginning part of my second trip are probably the best portions), and some interesting video. Thanks again and feel free to drop me a line...especially if you're a filmmaker who wants to collaborate on a screenplay!

Jon

Some Stability

Thanks for your great comments and attention to the blog. I have been very encouraged by folks who have read and commented or emailed me with their support!

For those who may be interested on the latest developments in my life:

I had a last minute interview last week in DC at the Institute for International Finance (http://www.iif.com/). It’s a research assistant position supporting three economists in the Latin America group. It also includes event planning and it seems as though I will have trips to San Juan, Puerto Rico and Rio de Janeiro, Brasil.

Then, I checked out the job in Cedar Falls, Iowa. The guy I was talking to consults with The VGM Group (www.vgm.com) as well as other companies. I talked to the CFO at VGM. It was very cool all the businesses they are involved with and the entrepreneurial situation there—lots of opportunity to get exposure to basic business planning and execution. My first project would be giving direction to a young political consulting business for Dems. The problem was Cedar Falls. While it is home to the University of Northern Iowa, all reports indicate students leave to go home on the weekends because there isn’t much going on there! It would be great if I had a family already, but the timing right now is not good.

I also made a proposal to Pragma to commit to the last two rounds of the course while being sent to India in between and continuing to receive the 25 perdiem and insurance. They accepted. Cedar Falls would take me after 3 months.

So, yesterday I had to decide what to do. And I decided to take the job in DC. I will go there for a few days next week, then begin in earnest on June 11. I’m going to ask if I can consult with the folks in Cedar Falls somehow, maintaining a relationship with them…

So that’s the latest!

New York air is sweet!

I'm back in New York and the difference in the air quality is dramatic! The air in Dubai is fine, but it was so humid and heavy that I didn't notice the difference. I had a brief taste of sweet air in Munich as I was shuttling from one terminal to another. I step out of my apartment building now and the air literally smells sweet. How bad does the air have to be in your city that NYC air quality is drastically better by comparison?

Already, I've had crab rangoons from my chinese place, pizza from my pizza place, and tacos from my taco place. It's now 3:30 AM and I'm wide awake. Hopefully I'll adjust soon, though.

Next, I meet with a headhunter tomorrow who has been pumping up my ego about how nice my resume is, though she may not have anything for me--"I just want to meet you," she told me...maybe I'll get a date out of this thing... Tomorrow I also meet with a friend who will be shipping out to Iraq soon. Friday I've invited friends to come to the last beer garden in NYC, then Saturday I have two birthday parties to attend! So I get to have some fun before again pumping out applications for jobs next week before I leave for Iowa next Friday where I will be for 5 days.

As of now, I'm out of my apartment in early June, so decisions must be made in the next month.

I've been invited to go back to Kabul. I like being there OK and am pretty comfortable with the security situation and the job. But the heat is cranking up in Kabul. The temperatures in the KU library were OK, but we didn't have the extreme heat that will come with the end of June/July. The classroom was sometimes so terribly smelly, though, and that will only get worse--and I'm guessing much worse. Our western standards for bathing are not the same as the students in Kabul--not necessarily as a result of cultural differences, they just have limited access to power and water. Mary is not going back for this next round, but another fellow has already been arranged. So, I'm still considering it, but hope to find something else a bit more stable.

Outta Here!

We leave today on a 5 PM flight. I have an overnight in Dubai, then catch an 8:30 AM flight tomorrow to Frankfurt. Not enough time to get to the beach in Dubai, unfortunately!

We took our trip to Chicken Street for some souveneirs and I cut my 25-Massoud-hat deal once again--this time for $40 instead of $50. Haji Mohammad wasn't there, so I dealt with his (tiny) cousin instead. I also picked up a few wall-hanging items and some necklaces. So be nice and we'll see what you end up with!

Ran into the same kid on Chicken street at the very tail end of our time on Chicken Street today. He claimed he was no longer going to a French school, but was going to an English school. I hope so, but I fear the kid is not going to school at all...

Looking forward to my return to New York--I have a friend that will be in town Thursday who is shipping out for Iraq soon. Then Friday I have invited people to the Bohemian Beer Garden in Queens. It's no pool party, but it will have to do. Saturday there is what sounds like it will be a massive birthday bash for Lauren way uptown. So, be in touch and let's meet up!

See you soon.

Other stories

You've heard me complain about the terrible bathrooms at the library, well now here's proof. Reminds me of Trainspotting. I don't know why the vast chasm in ideas about hygiene in the bathroom, but this place smells of ammonia the stench and fermentation are so advanced. It really does mystify me why the bathroom can't be cleaned once a week... I've found a secret bathroom kept under lock and key at the English Language Resource Center for use in emergency situations. Funny how toilet talk becomes standard fare when you're in a place like this. It comes up over and over again. I guess it's something everyone's western intesterns have to confront.


















The other day, an enterprising young fellow (maybe 12 or 13 years old) with a bicycle and a backpack was out in the street in front of our guest house and came over to offer us maps and books. "How much for a map?" I asked. "Five dollars," he told me. "You gotta be kidding me!" I recognized this kid from the nearby bakery where we buy snacks now and again. He bought a brownie and a soda--unheard-of luxuries for someone in his situation--and gulped them down outside the bakery with a big smile on his face. Now I knew why--this kid understood his target market! Well, I ended up getting a Dari-English Dictionary and a map for $8. The dictionary has been great. It also has some Dari proverbs in the back and so far my favorite is "Two watermelons cannot be carried in one hand." The guards and students have gotten a kick out of me dropping some Dari on them now and again...

Just a few days to go...

With the final exam tomorrow, our time here is quickly drawing to a close.

I wanted to quickly try and answer “M” who asked about my changed perceptions of the Afghan people compared to my first time round—how has my impression changed from my first? Knowing it’s difficult and maybe unfair to paint with broad strokes, I’ll have a go at it anyway.

My first impression, drawn from interaction with the students, was that the Afghan people were more similar to us than different. Western clothes, hairstyles, English, a sense of humor. I suppose I expected the differences to be more obvious. Only when discussion turned to Allah (with N the first round) was I really confronted with the whole religion issue—which can be divisive and I avoid it. Another characteristic I have noticed (again, with the students) is their seeming inability or unwillingness to try and dig to figure something out, to look something up in their textbook, for example. They get stuck on something and immediately it’s, “A-jan!” calling for the teaching assistant to explain something they could easily find an explanation for in their book. Few express an interest in private sector work except banks—banks and government seem to be the only employers they consider. No one talks about starting their own business. They are also appreciative, but some also seem to have a sense of entitlement—I fear there may be an expectation of a helping hand from outside and reduced performance expectations because “this is Afghanistan.” I maintain, as I have from the beginning, that Afghans are generous and care deeply for their families. Leaving the home at age 18 or living far from elderly parents are pretty much unthinkable for them. They also love to have their photo taken.

I was anxious to get back out of Afghanistan when I first arrived this time round, but after being here a bit I’m more comfortable and could consider returning. Only recently, I discovered an excellent website with reviews on the restaurants in Kabul. Thank you Rosey, whoever you are! The recommendation for Herat Restaurant (“best lamb chops in the world”) took us there last night. I definitely couldn’t say best in the world anything, but it was neat to go to a “locals” place. No armed security or weapons search/pat down here. We did sit in the back “family room” so we couldn’t be seen from the street (the main dining room had glass walls to the outside). A major plus was that our dinner came to $11 for both of us. We left a 100 Afghani ($2) tip for the waiter and the thankful guy made a point of shaking both our hands on the way out!

After, I met with my new friend Ryan at L’Atmosphere. Ryan is here volunteering on a project to set up IT systems at the Kabul U library. He’d been in South Africa previously and we also realized we had both been to La Iguana Perdida in Santa Cruz, Guatemala. I stayed there for the chilled-out atmosphere, Ryan went there to dive. We also both remembered the Australian gal working there, Rebecca (“Becks”). Becks stopped through NYC to visit friends on her way through NYC a few months ago and I ran into her then. It was classic summer camp schtick, she and her friends were all wearing wigs out to the great little dance club where we met up. Anyway, small world.

Ryan and some of his coworkers and friends were seated at a table poolside (yes, I said pool as in swimming pool). I tried to take some photos, but my camera doesn’t do the job in such low light and they didn’t turn out.

There is this kind of gruff gatekeeper guy at the Kabul U library who gives us dirty looks if we’re late leaving at the end of the day. He always wears a white cap (there is probably a more appropriate term for it) and is grumbling at someone. But during this round he’s begun to bring what I think is his son to work and this kid is about the most adorable you’ll ever see. He wears this stripped suit and a baseball cap and he’s cute as a button. I’ve gotten him to slap me five now and again, but he often runs off if I try to approach him. Lots of people here dress in suits or jackets—Chinese knock-offs of expensive brands are everywhere as well as people make lots of clothing by hand.

Just a week to go!

Sorry I’ve been a bit remiss in updating the blog. And I also realize I’ve been chronicling my own personal goings-on, not really much to do with Kabul and Afghanistan. I’ll try to get back on topic!

We had a couple days off this weekend. Saturday was Afghan Independence Day. So Mary and I were kind of in lockdown. Apparently there is a parade and celebration, but also there have been threats of violence from the bad guys.

Wednesday evening was ANZAC Day, some kind of celebration of the military’s of Australia and New Zealand. Hila (Afghan-American) had just returned from looking at public policy graduate schools in the US (she decided on Tufts) and so we agreed to meet up at the Cantina, where ANZAC festivities would be in progress. The Cantina is a huge indoor space, though the center was grass and everyone was sort of packed into the back area where there was some live music. I met up with Hila and another American, Ryan, who is doing IT for her project. He’s from Seattle and seems like a cool cat. I also met Marco, an Italian working here for a UK NGO.

It was a nice night—relaxing with a few Victoria Bitter’s and we even got on the mini pool table. The entertainment of the night, though, had to be watching guy after guy after guy approach this (admittedly really attractive) blonde Romanian gal. Like flies to the flame. Her friend was playing pool with us and at one point I asked, “Does her father always travel with you?” in reference to a particularly mature fellow with busy hands who was hounding the friend. I definitely wonder what this international development work does to a personal life. Pretty difficult to maintain if your life is here for a year or so, then there for a few months, etc…essentially exactly the way my life has been the past 10 years.

Marco invited me to go to some village outside Kabul for Friday, and I was really keen to get out of the city. He and a group were organizing a picnic of some kind and the village destination is someplace known for pottery, apparently. Well, I floated the idea past R and D and they were adamant that Mary and I needed to stay home for the two days off. I didn’t hear about any bad stuff happening and the weather was gorgeous…oh well.

The last couple weeks we wake up to the sound of a dozen or so helicopters roaring over our neighborhood. I have this peacenik streak and a certain skepticism about the whole military-industrial complex and everything…but the (apparently tiny, if recent confrontations with rodents are any indication) macho guy in me thinks “that is so friggin cool” when those choppers are whoop-whoop-whooping by.

It’s spring, of course, so we’ve also had some interesting weather. I suppose because of the mountains all around, we get these interesting cloud formations, whipping winds, thunderstorms and quick rains. And yesterday, we were treated to about the most intensely colored rainbow I’ve ever seen. I remember seeing one that blew me away like this before—but only once before in my life…maybe on the Camino de Santiago.



I noticed the other day that Najib had a chess set in the guards’ room. So I asked if he played and he said yes. “Alright, you and me later—you’re going down,” I told him. “He’s trying to say that he’ll beat you,” Mary added in response to N’s blank look. She kept her eyes on him to see if it registered for a minute before giving up. So, later I went out to the guard room and we sat on the floor as N beat me three games in a row. And not only that, but the guy points out where you can move during the endgame—“You, can, move, here…here…not there, because this…”—as he touches my pieces and the board. Finally, I kind of lost it: “Dude, don’t do that—if I’m playing the game, let me play…it’s very rude.” “OK, I sorry…sorry.” Covering up my flare-up, I offered, “Do you know what ‘dude’ means in English…? It’s slang…”

I figured I’d pick on someone my own size and asked W if he wanted to play tonight. He beat me far worse than N! The third game was seriously about 7 moves—and I thought I had him!

We have only a week left before we fly out! The students took Test 3 today and did terrible. Attendance has been much more of a challenge this time around. Mostly for good reasons, I think—students are finding jobs. But it’s frustrating because the course is so intensive, missing an entire day is just a killer. So we have Tues, Weds, Thurs of class, Friday is off, the final exam is Saturday, and we hand out certificates on Sunday. Monday, we’re on a plane. So, send in your souvenir requests ASAP!

I'm thinking Bavarian Beer Garden for Welcome Home II May 11...

Surprise Animals

Two episodes the last week have provided conclusive proof that I’m a sissy. Several days ago, I entered my bathroom. My toiletries bag sits on the window ledge, and I noticed a bit of a white streak on the side of it, punctuated by a little dark spot next to it on the ledge. Looking closer, I suspected it was bird poo. “How on earth could bird poo have gotten through this screen?” I thought to myself as I inspected the screen for holes. “Hm, it’s a mystery…I guess I’ll clean it up.” I pulled some paper towel from a roll, went to the sink for a dab of water, and began to wipe the dry bird poo off the ledge and off my bag. “You know, maybe a bird was in the house during the day,” I thought to myself, “Boy I wonder when…and how they got the bird-“ *Fwap-fwap-fwap-fwap-fwap!* the beating of wings exploded seemingly right behind my head as an image of a sharp-beaked bird pecking at my luscious Western ear popped into my head. Terrified, I ducked, covered my head with my hands, and let loose with a “Yuuuuueeeeeyeeeaaaahhhhhh!!!!” as I darted passed the door and pulled it closed behind me. In the relative safety of the hallway, I began to process the fleeting vision of my horrible wing-ed predator. Faced with this challenge of man against beast…I went and got A. Pointing up toward the second floor, saying “bird,” and interlocking my thumbs to make a bird shape (complete with wing-flapping hand action) didn’t seem to get the story across, so I invited A to come upstairs with me. From a safe distance, I directed him to the door, sure of the violent fate awaiting him inside. A turned the latch and pushed the door open—it offered less resistance than he anticipated and it jerked open before he regained control of it. My curious eyes went straight to the area above the shower where the beast had silently, patiently stalked me as I so innocently put together the clues he had pooped me. There, perched on the shower curtain rod was a small, white-and-grey pigeon (please understand nearly all birds are pigeons to me). A, turned and gave me his signature less-than-a-full-head-of-teeth smile before easing inside and closing the door behind him. Immediately, he came back out with the bird in his hand (worth two in the bush, right?), and walked over to me cowering in the doorway of my bedroom. A smiled, showing me the bird while petting or poking it with his other hand. He giggled and made some bird noises before heading outside to unleash the beast on other unsuspecting pansies. I weathered the ride down from my adrenaline high by cleaning up the rest of the bird poo in my bathroom, laughing at myself for putting two and two together so slowly. It reminded me of some joke a travel writer told about Iowans—that telling a joke to an Iowan was like watching turtles in a race or something to that effect… Well, then tonight there was another episode, securing my sally-boy reputation around the Pragma guest house. I was in the kitchen getting ready to heat up our dinner. I was running water on a pan when I heard the plastic bread bag rustle. Initially, I though that maybe it just shifted like plastic bags will sometimes do. But then it happened again and I looked around the back of the chair the bag was on to see that a dark mouse was inside the bag, snacking on the bread. Well, he’s in the bag, I’ll just grab the top of it and he’s trapped, I thought to myself. Then I thought, after blastocystis hominis and dengue fever, rabies I don’t need. Turning back to the sink, I looked around for some implement I could use. If I could just hook one of the loops at the top of the plastic bag, I’d have him. The best I could do was a spoon. Then in the distance I heard the outside door—one of the guards was coming in. If the mouse spooked, he might jump out of the bag and start trying to gnaw on my ankles. I had to act. Too late—W walked through the door of the kitchen and was immediately confronted with me signaling him to stop and be quiet with a finger to my mouth and my flattened palm. Turning back to face the chair with what I now realized was a really pretty short spoon, I measured up the jab I’d have to make at the loop. After considering it for a moment, I made my move and managed to pull up on the loop, trapping the mouse inside the bag. Then I put the spoon through more securely and picked up the bag, displaying my success to W and thinking, “Now THAT’S how you trap a mouse in a bag it voluntarily walked into.” Nonchalant, W wrapped his hands around the top of the bag. I motioned with an air-sweeping hand gesture that it should all be thrown out. “Nay, *something more in Dari I didn’t understand*,” W said and pointed at himself. “Nay” is no, so I assumed he meant that instead of tossing it, he and the guards would eat the mouse bread. “OK…” I said, my eyebrows raised at how these guys live on the edge. Later I heard Mary come down, start laughing, and then came to find me. “Boy, you just keep having all these surprise animal stories!” “You got the story already?” I said, wondering how W could have told her in Dari and briefly thinking about how “Dr. Dolittle” with Eddie Murphy was on cable the other night. “I went in the kitchen and W was laughing. Then he said, ‘Jon. Small. Mouse.’” A squealed about the pigeon, I’m sure of it! So now the big, bad American has a big wussy reputation at home… "I don't like surprise animals," Mary reassured me. Here’s some footage of the green KU campus and my interrogation of a few students: